


Destiny Reborn

by cynatnite



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Marvel Cinematic Universe Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Climate Change, Hawkson House, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Phil Clint as foster parents, Phil and Clint get a Loki surprise, Phil and Clint live a long time, Phil has a funeral, Steve and Bruce has an asexual relationship, depressing sometimes, major character deaths, mention of Daisy, mention of Natasha Romanov and Bruce Banner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 11:15:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17980280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynatnite/pseuds/cynatnite
Summary: What if you got a second chance to be young again? What if that came on the condition of a vision? What if that meant seeing the planet at it's worst and humanity doing a crappy job of it?Phil and Clint get that and more than they bargained for. This is a story of loss, love, endurance and rebirth.





	Destiny Reborn

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wanted these guys to get forever kinds of lives with kids and all that. But the story I started with, putting them in the Highlander 'verse just sucked. This isn't that much better, but worked for me. So, I did that and this is what came of it. 
> 
> It's sappy, dramatic and all that. The ending is corny, but that rocks my boat. I'm a Clint/Coulson woman all the way. Happy endings are the only way to go.
> 
> I'm pretty terrible with tags so if something gets you, let me know and I'll fix it. 
> 
> All mistakes are mine.

He should’ve felt it happen.

He should’ve known it, instinctively, like breathing in and out.

He’d been in the small shop behind the garage at the time, using the tools Tony Stark had gifted him years ago to make arrows. They had sat unused for a time, gathering dust, while the rest of the world moved forward.

That was when he flew from building to building, jumping, firing off arrows into the sky to take out the supervillain of the week. The voice in his ear, strong and sure, guiding him even on those days when he heard it in his heart rather than the comms.

Clint would call it the best years of his life, but there were so many of those that he’d lost count. His best years were after joining SHIELD and Phil Coulson agreeing to be his permanent handler. They’d integrated Natasha and they became hell, fury, and fire across three continents. Then there were the Avengers and a month of heartbreak in between when Clint thought the voice in his ear was forever silenced.

SHIELD fell and rose again while Clint and Phil lived off brief moments around the world as they fought villains, gods and demons. Phil returned to Stark Tower full time and while Clint fought with superheroes, his partner and husband worked with SHIELD and the Avengers to blend seamlessly together on the occasion their worlds intersected.

Those ten years seemed to last forever and Clint forgot that nothing lasts an eternity. Phil tired more easily and the lines around his face were more pronounced when he laughed and gave Clint the smile only meant for him.

It took two serious injuries for Clint and Phil to have that talk they’d put off for so long. Clint’s back was turning into a constant ache and his knees were swelling at the end of a long day of fighting. He was slower, but his aim and eyes remained true.

The long talk turned into dreams about the future together. Once upon a time, Clint had thought a future was for other people. He never expected to live past thirty, let alone fifty. Phil, on the other hand, talked about their own home, something they could fix up together and make their own. A bed was a bed, in Clint’s mind, whether it was Stark Tower’s multi-million-dollar luxury suite or a small bunk in New York’s SHIELD headquarters. The more Phil talked about it, more Clint wanted that life for them.

It was a small single-story two-bedroom home outside of New York City. While Phil had checked the plumbing and electricity, Clint had taken to the roof and not for just inspection purposes. He needed his sightlines all around him. He’d prefer something higher, but his knees were protesting more and more as time went on.

What Clint hadn’t realized at the time, was that his husband thought more about the future than he’d ever known. There was a small fortune Phil had saved and a portion of that was invested over two decades ago. Clint was flabbergasted when Phil explained they were millionaires due to years of free room and board at Stark Tower, pensions, investments and royalties.

“Hawkeye is hot property,” Phil explained with a slight leer in his eye.

Clint was speechless and Phil gave him a breathless kiss. He didn’t have words until Phil was fucking deep and hard into the mattress.

House bought, they set about renovating it. Phil was determined to do as much of the work himself as possible. Clint found it to be far more fulfilling than he thought it would be. The Avengers couldn’t help but get involved despite Phil’s protests and Clint’s grin.

Phil did allow Tony Stark to add an additional bathroom as a housewarming gift. It was too big of a project for them anyway. Clint would lean against the doorframe going into the kitchen while Tony and Phil argued over the blueprints.

“No, Tony, we’re not spending $8,000 for a bathtub we’ll hardly use.”

“Yeah, but look at this, Agent.”

When Phil saw the luxurious rain shower system and with digital controls and LED lighting for nearly $10,000 Clint nearly laughed.

“That’s not bad,” Phil said.

Clint asked for the tub since the jets would help his knees and back.

As the home took shape, Clint took to the stores. He was more than happy to take on the decorating. Thor gifted them with bookshelves made by artisans on Asgard for books and Phil’s extensive memorabilia collection. Natasha dipped into her own funds for a state-of-the-art stove since Clint loved to cook. Steve framed three drawings one of which was a sketch when Clint and Phil took their vows. Bruce brought in several plants and actually landscaped the front yard himself giving the home a simple, yet beautiful curb appeal.

After a housewarming party, Clint and Phil settled into their new lives, retired and getting used to the quietness. Nothing was ever easy especially when they watched news and a teammate was injured. As with life, it moved on for everyone.

New Avengers entered as the originals began to take a step back. Natasha was training the newer members. Bruce hulked out less and less, more content to stay in his lab. Tony fully automated several Iron Man suits as he worked from his shop. Pepper had finally put her foot down after an injury had nearly crippled him. Steve Rogers was the only one to remain.

For a time, the public reminisced about the original Avengers and how they did it “old school”. There was a resurgence to their popularity and at Phil’s behest, he went autograph signings and charity appearances. Clint donated one of his bows to the Smithsonian. He hated it all with a passion that set his teeth on edge.

It wasn’t because he was less popular than the Big Four. Seeing Phil in the background, just another face in the crowd and blending in had Clint seeing red at times. Phil Coulson was the reason there were Avengers to begin with.

When the popularity died down, Clint and Phil went back to their lives. They planted a garden in the backyard, went to an Asian cooking class and bought a new outdoor grill.

Time moved at a snail’s pace. Phil was sent to a Type II Diabetes class at the request of the doctor. His years of eating badly had finally caught up to him. Blood pressure medication was added soon after. Clint was diagnosed with arthritis in his knees which put him out of the running for any kind of surgical remedy. He neglected to tell Phil for months about the aches in his hands. It was one of their rare serious arguments.

For twenty-one years they lived in their small home and found satisfaction that they had done everything they’d sat out to do as their younger selves. It was okay to miss their heroic days of saving the world or even just the day.

But still, Clint should have felt it. He should have known that exact moment. He’d spend the next eight years blaming himself for it afterwards.

He’d emptied the water bottle and left the shop. Clint cut across a small corner of the backyard and entered the house through the backdoor into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and found the bottle of lemon raspberry juice and opened it.

“Phil, we gotta get a mini-fridge in that shop,” Clint hollered. He took several large gulps. “Don’t tell Stark. He’ll try to build us a goddamn chef’s kitchen back there.”

Clint took another drink and paused, resting an arm against the refrigerator door. He shut it.

“Phil? You in the bedroom?”

When he walked into the living room, he froze. Phil was sitting on the edge of the recliner, his head bowed, breathing hard, perspiration beading on his forehead, pale and clutching at his chest.

Clint rushed forward and got on his knees in front of Phil. “Hey, babe, what’s wrong?”

“Can’t…” Phil’s breath hitched and pain etched across his face. “Clint.”

He yanked the phone out of his pocket and called an ambulance.

The hospital was cold. The colors were meant to be relaxing, soothing, but all Clint felt were chills along his skin. Natasha had come immediately. The rest of the original Avengers would soon follow once they got word on Phil’s condition.

A young doctor, a kid, in Clint’s eyes gravely explained Phil’s condition. Myocardial infarct, massive damage, organs shutting down due to blood supply issues.

The heaviness settled in Clint’s chest as it was all explained to him. At Phil’s age in addition to other health problems, he wouldn’t qualify for any surgical interventions. The insurance company was unforgiving the older people got. He almost couldn’t breathe.

One phone call to Tony Stark could insure Phil’s life for a few more years, but they’d talked about this at length. Phil even had a living will in his old briefcase at the top of their closet.

Clint sat in the chair at Phil’s bedside and raised the alternatives again. Seeing Phil’s pale face, the deep lines and thin skin made him frail and not the man who’d taken on gods without a moment’s hesitation. He wasn’t the man who’d ran after Clint during a rainstorm when he was a cold-blooded assassin at the age of twenty-three.

Phil reached over and took Clint’s hand, keeping it tight the entire time as he spoke at seeing Clint shoot his bow for the first time, how he told Fury that if Clint wasn’t a part of the Avenger Initiative he’d hand in his resignation, and after Loki when he opened his eyes and saw the love in Clint’s eyes. They retraced their history together in low voices and whispers.

Clint went in the hallway as Natasha entered. He sat in the chair as each Avenger came into the room and said their goodbyes. Clint took a few calls from distant relatives he’d only met a few times.

Two days later, with Natasha at his side, Clint watched the last breath leave Phil Coulson’s body. The hospital wasn’t cold any longer. Clint was numb inside and out.

He never slept that night even though Natasha was at his back, holding him. Clint didn’t cry. That would come later when he was alone. He was almost sure of it.

The following morning a cup of coffee was put in front of him and he nibbled at the toast. Clint and Natasha talked about the funeral and Pepper sent one of her PA’s to field phone calls. She still kept a close eye on Stark Industries despite being retired with Tony in Malibu.

The service was arranged at the funeral home since the venue would allow a larger and more diverse crowd. With Natasha’s help, Clint picked out four speakers and two singers for the service.

Much of the time, it was Natasha, the PA and someone on the other end of her phone that made the rest of the arrangements. He’d sit on the comfortable sofa, glance at Phil’s empty recliner and twirl the cold wedding band on his finger.

Natasha pulled him into the bedroom sometime later and helped him pick through Phil’s suits. He settled on the sateen navy pinstripe that was Phil’s favorite. Tony had given it to him and despite Phil ordering Clint not to say a word, he told Stark anyway. The shirt, a delightful cream, was Natasha’s choice. She always liked how they complimented one another. Clint picked out the tie Bruce had given Phil for his birthday. A midnight blue silk that Clint loved tying with a half-Windsor knot. He chose the custom designed Captain America cufflinks that Steve secretly liked but would never admit to. Clint insisted Phil be buried wearing his wedding ring. Phil would complain about taking it off. He felt naked without it.

Clint was stunned at the turnout. It was rows of past and present Avengers, SHIELD agents both active and retired alike. Seeing Melinda May and Maria Hill in the second row after so many years nearly made Clint cave inside of himself. Natasha held onto his arm as he moved forward.

The casket sat open, with Phil’s body inside and it was Clint’s insistence to see it before the service started. He’d already come on his own the day before, but this was important. Seeing Phil, a second time was far different than previously. It looked like him, but it wasn’t. The softness was gone. This wasn’t his Phil. His Phil was gone and all that remained was a shell. He hoped Phil was happy wherever he was.

Natasha handed Clint the arrow. Clint never could understand why Phil kept it all these years. It had been a mission during his beginnings at SHIELD. There had been a gun at Phil’s head and Clint hadn’t hesitated. The arrow embedded itself in the wall behind them, the head catching the cuff of the man holding Phil hostage, pinned in place. Phil had gotten to it before Clint could retrieve it.

He placed the arrow on Phil’s unmoving chest making sure to lay it across his heart. Clint wouldn’t learn until years later that Natasha had slipped a favorite knife into the casket as well.

In all of the years Clint knew Phil, the man was content to be bland, another face in the crowd. He never sought, expected or even wanted accolades, praises, tributes, honors or anything that would bring attention to him. Phil liked that anonymity because it was where he worked best. It’s what got Clint’s attention in the first place. The more Phil faded into the background, the more Clint saw him and wanted him.

Now, Phil was getting all of that and more. Clint covered his mouth to stifle the laugh that nearly erupted earning a curious glance from Natasha and a few others. Phil would actually hate this. His husband would be flattered, no doubt. Clint could clearly hear the words in his ear. They were a team, a part of a greater whole and the rest of Nick Fury’s speech that every cadet in SHIELD was required to memorize.

It was the first time Clint felt a little more peace since his husband died.

A few days later after the grand funeral, Clint got a copy of the New York Times in the mail. The headline read, “Past and Present Avengers’ Fond Farewell To One of Their Own”. There was a large photo of the venue to show that very thing. Clint read every word and nodded. It was a well-done article expressing without Phil Coulson, the Avengers would never have existed in the first place.

Natasha came to visit almost every weekend after that. She called once or twice day. It was nice. A few times they went into the city and Clint would visit with Bruce and Steve. They remained as ageless as ever and it was easy to forget for a moment just how much time had passed.

The first week, Clint had slept on the sofa. It hurt his back so much he barely got around the small house. He took to the bed in their room and often he fell asleep gazing at the empty pillow next to him.

Then Natasha retired from the Avengers altogether. She stayed with him for a month afterwards, but Clint couldn’t handle seeing her every day as useless as he felt inside. She went back to New York and bought an apartment on the east side. Bruce lived with her much of the time. Age had caught up to her as well when she joked about the sword cane Bruce had given her.

When she passed away from a sudden stroke, seven years after losing Phil, Clint knew then that his time was coming fast. He welcomed the rest and he was ready for it. There really wasn’t anyone left for him despite the well-meaning calls from Bruce and Steve.

Clint quit answering phone calls and texted instead. He ate sporadically knowing what it meant. The TV was never turned on, Clint rarely left the house and instead began sitting in Phil’s recliner. He even wrote a letter to Bruce instructing that Clint be buried next to Phil and in no way did he want a fucking funeral. There wasn’t anyone to mourn for him.

He licked it shut and tossed it on the coffee table content with the life he’d led and his readiness to let it end.

“Well, aren’t you the pathetic one?”

Clint’s eyes snapped up and sitting on his sofa, stretched out across it as if he lived there was Loki. He still looked the same, although the black hair might be longer, his chin haughtily raised with disdain in his eyes.

“What the fuck!” Clint gritted out. He started to push out of the chair and his back screamed in protest. He let himself drop back down.

“Barton, even at the height of your physical prowess you could never harm me,” Loki stated without a care.

“Get the fuck out of my house!” Clint demanded. Loki was right about one thing. Clint was completely helpless and the rage burned in his chest.

“Or?” Loki said raising his eyebrow.

“Or get it over with and fucking kill me. I don’t give a fuck. Just get out of my sight!”

“Oh, but we have so much to discuss, Barton.” Loki rose and moved closer to Clint, towering over him.

“How ‘bout I yell for Heimdall,” Clint countered. “Think I’ve still got some pull on Asgard.”

Then Loki rolled his eyes. “Heimdall knows of my visit to your muddy realm.”

Clint couldn’t believe it. Here was Loki, standing over him. He watched the demigod begin to stroll about the small room inspecting various items. He bared his teeth when Loki picked up Phil’s old coffee cup sitting on a shelf.

“What do you want?” Clint demanded. He finally stood and took the cup from Loki’s hand.

“I come with a boon,” Loki said. “To protect the future.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Loki never gave anything away for free. He knew that much.

“You must come with me and a choice will be offered.”

“Fuck you!”

Loki sighed.

“Barton, my days of torturing you and my brother are long past. I have been pardoned of my crimes as long as I remain under the watchful eye of Heimdall.”

“Last I heard, you rejected Thor.”

“You Midgardians have a saying. Time heals all wounds.”

“The only person I’ll buy that from is Thor.”

“Unfortunately, Thor has been called away to settle a galactic war. I cannot summon him at this time.”

“Then just tell me what the fuck you want, Loki!” Clint demanded. “If this is what you say it is, just spit it out!”

“You yourself would not believe my words, Barton.”

“Showing me, huh?” Clint balled up his fists tempted to hit Loki as he inclined his head.

Now Clint was curious. He still hated Loki for stabbing Phil and the mind-fuck, not to mention the blood on his hands due to the demigod’s machinations. For all he knew, Loki would take him out of this place and let him loose in a black hole or the sun. Clint had made his decision before Loki’s arrival. He wasn’t going to take his own life, but he wasn’t going to delay death’s approach either.

“Fine,” Clint agreed. “Let’s get this shitshow on the road.”

Loki stepped closer and took hold of Clint’s arm. “I am not going to kill you, Barton. Should you refuse this boon, you will be returned to this dwelling as I found you.”

Then they were gone.  

 

~*~

 

The next thing Clint knew, he and Loki were in a long white corridor with numerous doors. The starkness of it hurt Clint’s eyes, but his vision soon adjusted.

“Where are we?”

“Difficult to explain,” Loki said. “This exists between Asgard and Valhalla. It is considered a…” Loki paused searching for the right word. “A terminal, if you will. Vast souls are remanded here until their placement is determined.”

“Souls? Dead people?”

Loki hummed in agreement as if it was as simple as getting a passport.

“If you’re going to tell me that Phil’s here…”

“He is, Barton, but not in the way your human mind perceives it.”

“Fuck you, I want to see him right now!”

“As you wish, but I warn you. What you see will only be the physical manifestation you comprehend.”

“Get on with it.”

Clint followed him down the long hallway and after a few minutes, they stopped at a door. Once it was opened, he went inside with trepidation already halting his steps. It took a moment for him to go inside.

The room was as white as the corridor with the exception of a figure in white, floating four feet from the floor. Two transparent conduits were attached to each side of the neck.

When Clint got closer, he froze. It was Phil. He reached out to touch him and his fingers went through the hand wearing a wedding band.

He shot a dark look at Loki then turned back.

“As I said, Barton, this is only a manifestation.”

“You see something different,” Clint murmured never letting his gaze leave Phil’s face.

“Quite.”

“What do you want with us?” Clint’s heart was starting to pound, his breathing increased. He clenched his fist to resist the urge to touch Phil again.

“A seer in Vanaheim implored to take audience with me,” Loki began. “It was at her behest that I come to you. She foresaw a distant future of pain, death and eventually beauty and peace.”

“For us,” Clint whispered.

“Perhaps. I know not, for she kept many details of her vision to herself. Your Son of Coul can be returned to you alive.”

Then Clint shook his head. “No. Not like this. Phil wouldn’t want it.”

“What she did express were that you and your Son of Coul be given the life of Idunn’s vineyard. Your bodies will be returned to Midgard at the height of your physical being.”

“Loki, the fuck! What are you talking about?” Clint dragged his nails through his hair, furious. “Why the hell would you do that? What’s in it for you, you fucking bastard!”

Loki looked a little taken aback and Clint didn’t understand why until he felt the tears on his cheeks. He rubbed at one of them and then gazed at the wetness on his fingertips. He hadn’t cried when Phil died and he couldn’t remember the last time he had.

“Barton,” Loki said gently which was foreign to Clint’s ears. “As was told to me, this is a boon not just for you or your Son of Coul, but for the future. This is all I know.”

“If you’re fucking with me, Loki, so help me, I’ll fucking end you. I don’t know how, but I will.”

“The choice is yours, Barton.”

“What’s this Idunn’s vineyard?”

“It promises the consumer 5,000 years of life.”

The bubble of laughter escaped Clint and he wiped the remaining tears on his face. “Five thousand years. Right?”

“No Midgardian has ever been granted such a gift, Barton. Lady Idunn herself intervened to insure the seers’ word would be followed to the letter should you agree.”

“Fuck,” Clint breathed. He went to Phil’s form and stared willing the eyes to open, to hear his voice and feel the love Clint yearned for. “You’re probably going to fucking kill me anyway, Loki, but I miss him so much and I’d rather be dead than go another day without him. I can’t fucking do it. I accept.”

The tears were hot and seemed to burn his cheeks. Clint couldn’t will his hand to rise in order to wipe them away.

Loki was suddenly behind him, close, breathing in his ear. “As you wish, Barton. Although, you must die first.”

The fingertips at his temples burned, but before Clint could cry out, the world went black.

 

~*~

 

It was music that roused him, as if he’d been asleep for over a day. “Do You Know The Way to San Jose” by Dionne Warwick blasted from the radio. Phil opened his eyes and realized he was sitting in a car. He had no idea where he was.

Phil turned off the radio and glanced over. He was alone. It took a moment for him to get his thoughts together. Patches of images were slowly coming to the surface.

Watching reruns of the Simpsons with Clint, then he remembered pain and suddenly not being able to breathe. Phil closed his eyes and saw Clint leaning over him, the thickly lined face, the thick grey hair and those intense eyes that seemed to follow him no matter where he went.

“Fuck me,” Phil said when it dawned on him. “I died. Again.”

He had to find Clint. It was still daylight and the car was parked not far from a row of picnic tables. It was easy to spot Clint’s form sitting on top of one, leaning forward as if in deep thought. Phil was stepping out of the car when it hit him.

That position had given Clint’s back trouble for years. Phil couldn’t believe his eyes. This was a much younger Clint, with thick arms, a broad chest and not the man who’d aged before him. This Clint was the lethal Hawkeye, Avenger and superhero.

Phil suddenly realized he wasn’t hurting like before either. If he looked in the mirror, had he aged backwards as his husband? The only one that might have answers was the man not far from him.

As he approached, he was stopped by Clint’s voice.

“It’s been two years.”

“What?”

“Since…” Clint looked at his hands, flexed his fingers and then turned his eyes on Phil. He seemed to drink his fill of him.

“Clint, what happened? Are we dead?”

“No.” Clint slowly lumbered off the table and walked to him. He took another moment to study Phil, taking a moment to make sure it was him after all.

Before Phil could speak, Clint was pulling him close and then his lips were on Phil’s, tasting him and breathing into his mouth, then inhaling as if his life depended on it.

“I’ve been waiting a fucking hour for you,” Clint said. “I was starting to think Loki had truly fucked with me in the nightmare of mind-fucks.”

“Loki? Clint, what the hell is going on?”

“This going to take some explaining.”

Clint took hold of Phil’s hand and pulled him to a more private area of the park. They sat on a park bench and Clint began. As he talked, Phil felt the air leave his lungs in disbelief.

“And you trusted Loki?”

“Jesus, Phil, I couldn’t live another day without you. I didn’t give a damn whether he killed me or not, I wasn’t planning on being alive much longer. You know me. I’m no good alone.”

Phil was trying to understand. He wanted to for Clint’s sake, but with Loki in the mix, he had no reason to trust anything.

“This could be a dream,” Phil said. “Something Loki put in your head. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Maybe,” Clint admitted. “I find I just don’t give a fuck. You’re here with me. I’m a selfish bastard when it comes to you, Phil. It’s real to me.”

“How long was I dead before Loki came to you?”

“Almost nine years.” Clint lowered his eyes and twisted at his fingers. “Natasha died. All I wanted to do was die, too.”

Phil wanted to reach out to Clint. His voice, filled with pain, sounded so small. He didn’t want to imagine how much Clint suffered after losing so much. His heart ached about Natasha, but his husband was here now.

“And Loki came to you when you were most vulnerable.”

“Well, I figure if what he says is true about that seer, then maybe whatever we’re supposed to do somehow saves the world or something. I did some checking while I was waiting for you to wake up.”

“What’d you find out?”

“It’s been two years since Loki took me to that place. Our house is gone along with all of our stuff. Bruce and Steve probably took care of it. There’s a laptop in the backseat of the car and when I fired up the browser it went straight to a bank account. Ours. We’re still Phil and Clint, but with different last names. Johnson. Plus, the money in that account is exactly the same we had before dying. If this was all in my fucking head, this isn’t exactly how I’d go about it.”

“Clint, Loki is jerking your chain. He’s…

“Don’t, Phil. I know what you’re going to say, but for once I think we should run with this and see what happens.”

“We need to talk to someone. Thor, maybe.”

“I tried. I screamed my lungs out for the guy along with Heimdall. Hell, even Loki. Damn near got the cops called on me.”

“We can go to Stark Tower or to SHIELD. Get some answers.”

“Phil, you’re dead and I’m pretty sure everyone thinks I am, too. None of them, except maybe Steve and Bruce, would know us. Look at us and look how long it’s been. They’ll lock us down in a fucking hole and we’d never see the light of day.”

Phil huffed a laugh and sighed. “I was going to say you should’ve talked to me first before making this kind of decision. I’m angry at you, Clint. I can’t help it.”

“I knew you would be. I’m hoping you’ll get over it in the next thousand years or so.”

“What?”

Clint had an irreverent grin on his face that Phil always loved.

“I’m hungry. Let’s find a diner in this town and I’ll tell you the rest of it.”

Seeing Clint’s hand out to him, the anger slipped away. Phil wasn’t sure if it would stay that way, but he took hold of it and let himself get pulled to his feet. He laughed when Clint challenged him.

“Race you!”

 

~*~

 

That night, after finding a motel, Clint slowly undressed Phil, laid him on the bed and slowly moved on top of him and kissed his forehead, his eyes, nose, lips and more. He covered Phil’s body with his mouth as he got to know his husband all over again. It felt like the first time, only now, Clint felt more alive than ever.

The following morning, they headed north.

Phil was always about thinking ahead and if what Loki said was about the lengthy lives ahead of them, plans needed to be made.

It was a small town with less than two thousand people, but it had many of the important amenities. Few paid much attention to the gay married couple who rented the two-bedroom house just on the outskirts of town.

Winter would soon be coming and they prepared to settle in for the long hall. Phil wasn’t willing to invest in a snow blower or any other high dollar spending at this point. There was still a lot to work out in his mind. So, they bought a cheap upright freezer for more food in addition to other grocery items.

Clint and Phil bought puzzles, books and a few board games to help pass the time as well. While Phil still enjoyed his tacky reality TV shows, both usually tired of it anyway and were content with music and whatever else helped pass the time.

The small home was more like a safehouse. There were no mementos, photos or anything else to show it was anything more than that. Clint and Phil spent as little as possible on the necessities.

It was an especially long winter and not for the unexpected snowfall that seemed to never stop. The freezing temperatures were brutal at times which kept them inside. They talked less now than in all their years together. It was enough conversation to pass the time, but not the intimate ones in the past that would keep them awake with one another through the night.

It was late January and the day was no different than any other. Clint was talking about shoveling out the drive since coffee was running low. He liked coffee well enough, but could live without. Phil simply stated he’d do it since the only reason Clint was willing was because of him.

A simple disagreement blew up into a full icy snowstorm. All the regrets and simmering anger bubbled to the surface. Phil, because he still felt that Clint’s decision had been rash and not understanding the costs. Clint, because Phil should want this second chance they’d been given. Phil called Clint irresponsible and childish. Clint accused Phil of being a tightass and ungrateful. In addition to the yelling back and forth, two dishes were smashed and Clint threw his coffee cup against the wall. No one spoke after it shattered into a million pieces and fell to the floor. He went out the back door and Phil stormed out the front, each man standing in the cold stewing and the anger started to slip away.

That night in bed, they didn’t sleep. Their backs were to each other with an unsurmountable wall between them.

Phil rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling. He knew Clint was still awake.

“I died twice on you,” Phil said.

Clint raised his head and looked over his shoulder. “What?”

“No one should ever have to go through something like that. Two times, Clint. You were lost and alone because of me. Not just once, but twice.”

“Phil,” Clint said as he flipped over to look at Phil. “That wasn’t your fault. None of this was. It was all mine.”

They could go back and forth, Phil knew. They both were great at taking on unnecessary guilt.

“I really need you to kiss me right now,” Phil said instead.

Clint was instantly there, with a soft and gentle tough of his lips. Phil closed his eyes and kissed back, loving this side of tender and intimate Clint. He’d missed it. When Clint finished, he rested his head on Phil’s chest.

This time, they talked about the emotional wars raging inside.

Phil talked about how frightened he’d been both times. He hadn’t wanted Clint to see his suffering as a result of the first resurrection. Phil feared he’d lost his mind the first time and being revived a second time had only compounded it. He’d never been afraid to die, but he couldn’t handle the toll it was taking on Clint.

Clint spoke not just about being alone, but dying alone as well. That was another whole set of fears in itself. It was the first time he’d told Phil about the preparations he was making for his own death prior to Loki’s sudden appearance. Phil’s hold on him got a little tighter when Clint talked about dying in their house in their bed alone.

The quiet understanding and truths helped put that part of their lives in the past.

Clint sighed, wrapping his arm around Phil’s waist. He quirked a grin. “Captain America cried at your funeral.”

 

~*~

 

Winter slowly began to make way for spring. Phil and Clint began getting out more and started back on their runs together. It had been a routine when they lived at Stark Tower during their Avenger days.

It was mid-April during an early morning run, Phil put his hand on Clint’s arm to slow him down.

“Stop,” Phil said. He took a moment to catch his breath before motioning Clint towards a park bench at the park.

They took turns drinking at a nearby water fountain before taking a seat.

“What’s up?” Clint asked as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

“Oh?”

“If what Loki said is true, we’ve got a long life ahead of us and I don’t relish the idea of just doing nothing and not contributing anything.”

“I’m not sure if going back to New York and doing Avenger work would be the best plan for us, Boss.”

“You’re right about that. SHIELD would undoubtedly rendition us to a black site. Besides, I think we’ve given more than our fair share for king and country.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Phil gave Clint a half-smile in response. “Well, something crazy, possibly stupid and completely out of character. You will probably hate the idea because you’re you and I love you for that.”

“That’s definitely not you, Phil,” Clint grinned. “Hit me.”

“One of the huge aspects of our new lives together that I realized was that it was inevitable we’d still lose people. We will meet and come to care for who knows how many that will cross our paths. They’ll die and we’ll still be alive.”

“You think Loki was telling the truth after all?”

“Yes. I still think he has an agenda, Clint, but since we haven’t run into any Asgardian to date, I think they’re keeping distance for a reason. If we’re supposed to somehow do some good in this world as Loki said…”

“Protecting the future were his exact words,”

“Yes, then we have to find a way to become part of the world and do our best by it.” Phil inched closer to Clint and took hold of his hand. “I think we should foster children, together.”

“What?” Clint was sure he didn’t hear right. “You want to be a foster parent?”

“I’m hoping we both will.”

“Shit, Phil, I don’t know about that. You’re talking about taking kids in and then them dying long before we ever will. I don’t think I could handle that.”

“As much as we can, we do our best by them and hopefully they’ll take what we teach them out to the world. Maybe that’s our way of protecting the future.”

“They’ll still die.” Clint would get attached. He knew this about himself as much as he knew breathing. Natasha even commented more than once about the amount of love Clint had for everyone.

“They’ll have children and grandchildren. Maybe some of what we do will filter down. Maybe that will be the payoff.”

“Fostering kids isn’t a gig that normally lasts until the age of eighteen, Phil. Barney and I got shuffled around a few of them for various reasons.”

“I was thinking we could buy a place,” Phil offered. “Something with some land. It would be large enough to hold maybe three or four children.”

“Doesn’t seem like something that would make that big of mark on the world.”

“We could see how it goes and we can expand if we like.”

“Shit.” Clint took a deep breath in and let it out. “I want kids, Phil. Never thought it was a reality for you and me, but I’m not sure about fostering when they have to leave almost as soon as they get there.”

“I’m sure that’s not always the case, Clint. We could adopt, too. I thought it might be too big of a step for you given what our lives are like now.”

“Maybe. We could look at a few places.”

“About that,” Phil said. “I was thinking of a farmhouse in Northern Vermont.”

Then Clint laughed. “You must love the snow.”

“Not really, but I figured you’d love a tractor with a snowblade more.”

 

~*~

 

Decision made, they packed up what they could and donated the rest. Phil drove them to Newport, VT which was close to the Canadian border. After getting a hotel, they spoke with a few locals and were recommended a realtor with a knowledge of the outlying areas of the community.

The realtor was a nice woman named Gertrude. Phil laid out what they were looking for and the price range, she informed him of the limited amount of homes in the area. She became more eager when Clint let her know this would be a cash transaction.

After looking over four properties, Clint and Phil walked into the last one and knew they were home. This was the place. It was a three-story farmhouse with five bedrooms and three bathrooms. There was an attached garage and a large barn in the back. The ten acres was smaller than Phil liked, but Gertrude let it slip that another property owner close by would soon be moving in with his son. Their twenty-acres abutted this one and would likely be sold.

After some negotiating, Phil and Clint were able to buy the property well under the asking price. The night before closing, they sat on the bed with a box of pizza.

“I can’t believe how far north we are,” Clint mused. “You grew up in Wisconsin and Chicago where snow is the normal part of the landscape.”

“You haven’t asked why I wanted us to move here.”

“Okay, I’m asking.” Clint pulled a slice of pepperoni and dropped it in his mouth.

“Estimates are that global temperatures will keep rising. There’s debate on whether or not we’re at the tipping point…past the point of no return since few have the wherewithal to do much about climate change.”

“The farther north we go, the better off we are.”

“The better off the kids will be. That’s not to mention the rise in sea levels as well.”

“We can’t live too far south because we’ll burn up and so will the water. That commodity will get more valuable than gold. Wildlife and plant life will be pretty well fucked as well.” Clint nodded. “Here we’ll have more reasonable temperatures, less risk of flooding along with that fresh water lake not far and the streams and rivers close by. It all makes sense.”

“I have to find a way to stretch our money and do some wise investing. At some point, the world will go to hell in a handbasket if they don’t change their ways. We have no choice but to prepare for the worst.”

Clint sighed. “We might have more than a few centuries to live, Phil, but we’re still human, too. We can die just as easily as anyone else. I’ve got a few preparations of my own I want to make.”

“I thought as much.”

Phil reached for the laptop and they spent much of the evening planning for a distant future.

 

~*~

 

After moving into the large farmhouse, Clint and Phil set about getting it ready. The shingled roof was removed and a new state-of-the-art metal one was installed. In addition, they added a solar and wind system to the property. Majority of the inside of the house was in decent condition with only a few minor repairs. The ugly red in one bedroom was quickly painted over. All the bathrooms were renovated to make more space. There would be no $8,000 bathtubs.  

Clint was able to bargain for a much larger range and turned the wall oven into a double. They bought two large upright freezers for the garage. Another bathroom was added in the huge basement and they were able to section off for two additional bedrooms.

As the furniture was being delivered, Clint glanced at Phil.

“I think we could house up to fourteen kids.”

Once Clint got Phil over his near panic attack, they got back to work.

Phil began negotiating for the twenty acres Gertrude had talked about and was pleased with the eagerness of the seller. The celebration he had with Clint ended with the sudden realization that his husband didn’t have a bow.

They went to town and while Clint went on his search for a new bow, Phil headed for the law firm he’d made an appointment with.

Jenny Williams was only a few years out of law school and her shingle had only been up for six months when Phil met her. It was the reason he chose her firm not to mention that her practice areas were family law and adoptions. She was young, smart and no-nonsense. Phil liked that she had several law books sitting open on her desk. She seemed a little surprised by his requests, but explained the process in detail and how they could cut through some of the red tape. Phil liked her so much that he gave her a huge retainer. It took her almost a full minute to speak, before jumping up and shaking his hand.

It was a few months later while Clint was riding around the property on the new tractor that the call came. Phil ran out of the house and waved at Clint. He hurried over and hung up the phone.

“What’s wrong?”

“That was Jenny. The police found a man and woman dead, overdosed they believe. There’s a baby about eighteen months old. He’d been in a crib nearly the entire day before he was found.”

“Jesus, Phil. Is he okay?”

“Well, they think he was born addicted to crack so there are some issues. She said we could meet her at the hospital in Montpelier. If we wanted to…”

“I’ll get my jacket,” Clint interrupted.

Phil called Jenny back and they soon left.

The one thing that was made strange by the entire situation was the fact the male baby was not the child of the dead woman or man. Blood type alone confirmed it. There wasn’t even a name to call the poor thing and he had to be somewhere until the investigation was completed. Phil and Clint agreed to take him and were handed a screaming biracial baby.

The pediatric and neonatal ward nurses were to the rescue with bottles, diapers, some clothing and various necessities. A social worker gave them resources for dealing with a baby that not only was traumatized, but also facing developmental issues.

On the way home, Phil stopped at a Walmart and hurried in for emergency toys while Clint sat in the car trying to sooth the baby. By the time Phil came back he was starting to settle with a bottle. When they finally arrived home, he was sleeping only to awaken and cry once in the house.

Over the course of a few months, Phil and Clint were questioning their resolve. The baby seemed to cry and throw fits at the drop of a hat. He woke up in the middle of the night screaming and kicking. He was making around the house between stumbling around and crawling. At one point, he threw one of his toy cars down and shot Phil and Clint a death glare.

“Now, I know who he reminds me of,” Clint told Phil as they sat on the sofa.

“Yeah, I see it, too.”

Nicholas Fury Johnson would be his given name.

Since no family was forthcoming and none could be found, Phil and Clint adopted him. Thanks to whatever magic that got them here, they had good backgrounds and easily passed all the checks.

It got easier. Nicholas started talking more and Phil and Clint managed to get a smile or two from him. That made it all worthwhile.

Then it got harder. Two twin girls arrived on their doorstep. Not long after a six-year-old boy with a toothy grin. In a matter of weeks, they were housing ten children in addition to their son, Nicholas.

There wasn’t a lot of time to follow the changes in the world as theirs had become a whirlwind of cooking, cleaning, laundry, school, doctor visits and more.

Clint added to the implements for the tractor and began planning a garden. He and Phil were going to start canning. They built a playground area with the help of the older children and Clint started holding mini-soccer games in the backyard.

The days were busy, fulfilling and both men would collapse on the bed late at night. Clint complained about the lack of a sex life until Phil crawled over and gave him a blowjob of the century. Clint nearly smothered himself to death with a pillow to keep from yelling and waking up the house.

Most children came and went. It was tough to see them leave. In the end, a total of four were adopted which included Nicholas. An infant baby whose teenage mother had died during childbirth was the next one. There was no family and no clue as to the father. She was named Maria Rose Johnson. After that were two brothers that Clint insisted could not be separated and Phil was not about to argue that. Alex and Michael were added to the family.

The breaking point came when Phil and Clint found themselves with a total of seventeen in the house. That night they had to talk.

“We have to expand,” Clint said. “These kids don’t deserve to live in sardine cans.”

“I know. I broke up a fight today.”

“Who?”

“Haley and…” It took Phil a minute to recall his name. “Cameron. It was over a few toys downstairs.”

“Some of the kids we get are troubled, Phil. We’re able to get them the help they need, but without some space I’m not sure how much good it’ll do them.”

“It doesn’t help with winter starting to set in either,” Phil added. He leaned back in the chair and sighed. Phil looked across the large kitchen table and the kitchen. “We can’t afford another house plus finding a larger one is out of the question. Our money is stretched tight as it is even with the income from fostering these children. It’s helped offset the costs to a degree.”

“I hated the fucking system growing up, Phil.” Clint rubbed the back of his neck before continuing. He didn’t talk about it much, but this time maybe his experience could be put to good use. “Barney and I got shuffled through the foster system and really that wasn’t so bad. But the fucking group home was a nightmare. There wasn’t enough staff, enough of anything else to go around. Kids were left to sort out their own problems and that usually involved fists. Nobody gave a shit enough to do anything worthwhile.”

“What are you saying?”

“I know my view of the system is warped and if I could do it again, it would be ten times what Barney and I had. Hell, a hundred times.”

“You’ve got an idea.”

“Yeah, but it means getting some outside help.”

“Shit,” Phil bit out. “They’re going to be pissed at us.”

Clint agreed with a sigh and gazed at the kitchen. “I hope the stove doesn’t get a hulk sized fist if they come here.”

“They will.” Phil patted Clint’s hand. “Besides, there’s a cute little Amana in town.”

Phil laughed when Clint stuck his tongue out at him.

 

~*~

To say that Steve and Bruce were a little angry was like saying water is slightly wet. Steve cursed four ways to Sunday and Bruce slammed his fist on the table so hard that Clint almost swore that their laptop shook as a result. That was strange because the four men were skyping. Clint’s complimenting Bruce on his control didn’t help matters at all.

When tempers had subsided, then were the stares of disbelief. It took Steve a full two minutes before speaking.

“The two of you are running a foster home for wayward children. You adopted four kids.”

Then Steve and Bruce laughed.

When that was finally done, Steve and Phil went through their calendars and set a meeting date for the following weekend. They would be coming after all.

Upon seeing Steve and Bruce, it was like time suddenly went backwards. There was a lot of reminiscing about the old days, old friends and past successes. Bruce and Steve were still dumbfounded at seeing Clint and Phil with kids surrounding them.

Clint was cooking dinner while holding Maria Rose on his hip and Phil helped three other children with their homework. Bruce even got in on the action by helping one of the older foster children through a science question.

That evening after the younger children were in bed and the older ones had settled down, Bruce, Steve, Phil and Clint gathered around the kitchen table.

Phil caught Steve checking the time.

“Are you waiting on someone?”

“Yeah, actually. I didn’t think we could do this without another pair of eyes.”

“Who would that be?” Clint asked.

Then they heard the sound and the gentle thump outside the back door. Phil got up and opened it. The Iron Man’s armored nano-tech began to move and once Phil saw the face his eyes widened. No, it wasn’t the Tony Stark he knew, but close enough. This one looked almost thirty-five years old and had no facial hair. It was Morgan Stark, Pepper and Tony’s grandson.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you knew me.”

“Morgan Stark,” Phil said once he found his voice. “You look a lot like a much younger version.”

Morgan grinned. “We Starks have a tendency to improve with each generation.”

Phil stepped aside to allow Morgan into the room.

“Rogers, Green,” Morgan said with a nod towards Steve and Bruce. He looked over at Clint and then at Phil. “Wow, it’s like being at Madame Tussaud’s.”

“There are wax figures of us?” Clint asked. Phil had taken him three times to the place. Only it hadn’t had any Avengers until after their retirement.

“It’s been a few years ago.” Morgan peered closely at Phil. “Although, I’d say they didn’t get your nose quite right.”

“Morgan,” Steve chastised.

“Yeah, yeah.” He took a seat. “So, you all heard the news, right?”

“Yes,” Phil answered. “You have our condolences. Losing Tony and Pepper at the same time must’ve been difficult.”

“Not like you think.” Morgan shifted in his chair and leaned forward.  “They were wealthy centenarians. The old man always loved beating the odds. The public story is that they passed away peacefully in their sleep together. Kind of gives it a romantic twist, wouldn’t you say?”

“What did happen?”

“Granny Pep passed away first in her sleep. What I found out the next day was that the old man had it all worked out with Friday. He’d gotten a nano-tube pacemaker implanted several years ago. The juice on it was expected to last a good fifty years. She refused it.” Morgan took a deep breath. “You got anything stronger than mother’s milk in this place?”

“Yeah.” Clint got out a bottle of scotch from the top cabinet and four glasses. He carried the items and filled the small tumblers two fingers full. Everyone took a sip before Morgan spoke again.

“She was only willing to go so far to extend her own life. The old man took issue with this in his own way. He instructed Friday to shut off his pacemaker should she go before him. His heart was in fucking sad shape as it was and that was the only thing keeping him alive.”

“Wait,” Phil said. “Friday wasn’t programmed for anything like that. Did Tony disable her ethical subroutines?”

“No. Friday’s upgrades over the years included more sentience. Not like Jarvis’ program at all. The old man upgraded her security programming so that even he couldn’t fuck with it.”

“Yeah, I was in that movie,” Clint muttered. “Almost a happy ending, but it still sucked. A lot of people died.”

“This isn’t Ultron, Hawk. The old man spent months not just on ethical subroutines, but teaching her human interactions and decision-making based on an emotional component that he’d gotten locked in. For all intense and purposes, Friday is nearly as fucking human as the rest of us…except she’s not.”

“How in the hell did he manage that?” Phil asked.

“Me,” Steve answered. “Tony was determined to leave the world with more than just his tech and I agreed with him.”

“That mostly never happened,” Clint recalled.

“It took over two years of work,” Steven told him. “Almost twice that to get through the testing. When he added the new protocols and some type of emotion chip, Friday started out as petulant teenager, but matured the more I worked with her. Tony figured if I was satisfied that Friday wouldn’t be a repeat of Ultron, then…”

“And where’s Vision?” Clint asked.

“Off the grid,” Bruce answered. “Since losing Wanda he doesn’t want much to do with humanity. We’re hoping at some point he’ll change his mind.”

“If he’s alive,” Morgan finished. “I’ve been using my extensive genius and all the tech I can muster, but there’s nothing. He took her loss pretty hard and felt she was the only person who kept him human to a degree.”

No one spoke for a few minutes as the news settled among them.

“Maybe we should get started on the reason we’re here,” Bruce suggested.

“Right.” Morgan hopped off the chair and set a button-sized device on the table. With a wave of his hand a series of schematics appeared before them.

Phil knew immediately what they were looking at.

“No, this isn’t what we had in mind at all.”

Clint stood and looked closer. “Is that a swimming pool with a jacuzzi?”

“You boys are thinking micromachine. I’m leaning towards spaceship carrier,” Morgan stated. He glanced at Phil. “You didn’t pick this place for the scenery alone.”

“Of course not, but this…there is no way we can do anything even close to this scale.”

“Not without help,” Steve said.

“Listen,” Morgan said. “There’s no choice but to go big. Until the world get’s its head out of its collective ass, this is the way to go. Check this out.”

Morgan brought up another schematic.

“This is your main house, what we’re standing in. There will be three breezeways attached to several outbuildings because I assume you and Birdy would want easy access that goes both ways and would keep you out of the elements. Two of the buildings will be primarily to house your wayward children.” Morgan swiped to another set of schematics. “The others will be classrooms, studios, etcetera and all that. This will also have arc reactor technology for power resources, your own private servers, a futuristic compost and recycling system for the ages and every technical advantage Stark Industries can offer.”

“Just how many kids can this hold?” Clint asked.

“Three-fifty give or take.” Morgan glanced over. “You want more?”

“There’s no fucking way in hell we can manage that many.” Clint rubbed his neck.

“Not without a staff,” Bruce told him. “It’s why Morgan suggested separate living quarters for those who want to live on campus.”

“Campus.” Phil covered his eyes. “We just wanted to be able to add a few bedrooms and maybe a bathroom.”

“Go big or go home, Coulson,” Morgan said. He brought up a series of documents. “I’ve got several foundations we can work through to cover the expense for the next twenty years. In time, this place should be settled enough that future funding shouldn’t be an issue. Majority of the endowments will continue from us, but inflation is a bitch no matter which way you cut it.”

“Not only that, Phil,” Steve gently offered. “Bruce and I are getting our own separate quarters. Morgan is going to build us a home here.”

“What?” Clint was sure he wasn’t hearing that right. “Steve, but you’re an Avenger.”

“I haven’t put on the cowl for nearly twenty years. I’m not into the fight anymore. I’d rather use what non-violent skills I have for something like this. I got a teaching degree several years ago.”

“Same here,” Bruce said with a smile. “I miss teaching and I think I can give kids what I know in ways that hopefully will inspire them.”

It took a moment before anyone spoke. Clint glanced at Phil and saw the look in his eyes. Then he looked at Morgan.

“If we’re going to do this, it’s gotta be done right. Not one child is going to do without. We have to make sure we’ve got more than enough staff, food, clothes and whatever else a kid would need.”

“We need a school,” Phil said. “The district here can’t take on so many children. Every subject taught must be fully accredited and not just the basics that most schools offer.”

“They need to have real world applications,” Steve insisted. “Not to mention courses with a focus on creativity. Both need to work hand-in-hand.”

“Two labs,” Bruce added. “I don’t think there will be a problem in getting teaching assistants with the right incentive. That includes tuition reimbursement as well. It will encourage a large variety of student-teachers who are here because they want to be. Not just for a simple paycheck.”

“We can cover their housing,” Phil said. “Get rid of the swimming pool. We don’t need the liability. Instead, let’s have space for outdoor activities as well.” He looked at Clint. “An archery range would be nice. I’d like to be able to offer a wide range of outdoor activities that could include lacrosse, soccer and whatever else that kids will find an interest in. So, we’ll need coaches. Maybe some folks in town might be willing to volunteer.”

“You could get something worked out with the local leagues,” Bruce said. “It would help with socialization and maybe some of these kids could have a better shot at finding homes.”

“The more outreach, the better,” Steve said. “I hate playing the dancing monkey, but this is a worthwhile cause.”

Clint leaned back and slowly breathed in and out. This was huge and he was trouble wrapping his brain around it.

“Would I be an asshole by making sure we get the kids that are supposed to be here?”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked.

“Well, the mission objective should be orphans, the unwanted, and forgotten. My brother and I fell through the cracks easy enough even before we were orphaned.”

“We’ll have a staff to help with that, Clint,” Bruce said.

“Thing is, this isn’t just human kids I’m talking about.”

“You want mutant children,” Steve surmised.

“Some of them got lucky, but I’d bet my bow that we don’t have a clue about the majority of them.” Clint shifted in his seat.

“Maybe build something separate…” Morgan began.

“No fucking way!” Clint shot a glare at him. “Everyone is housed together, no splitting them up because of their differences. If we want these kids better than the world as it is, we have to show them what it can be.”

“You just gave this place it’s motto,” Phil told Clint. He didn’t think it was possible to love Clint more.

“So, what are we calling this rabble-rousing home of former superheroes and wayward kids?” Morgan asked.

Clint got to his feet. “Hawkson House.”

Morgan turned his head as Clint headed up the stairs. “That’s a terrible name.”

“Hawkson House,” Clint said again before disappearing.

“Where’s he going?”

“Maria Rose needs a diaper change,” Phil answered.  

 

~*~

 

The building of Hawkson House for Children began six months later after lengthy discussions over everything from a large garden to the indoor gymnasium which could hold basketball games, graduations and whatever else was needed. A medical clinic would be built along with a greenhouse, a parking lot and a variety of additional resources as well. The consulting involved local and state government as well as the Xavier Institute. Phil insisted Jenny Williams be given a substantial retainer including the ability to get a larger office and hire her own specialized attorneys and staff to handle the workload.

Phil and Clint decided to not accept any more children while the grounds were under construction. All that remained were the four children they’d adopted. The second and third levels of the house were remodeled for Clint and Phil’s private residence. They got a new kitchen, living room, two bathrooms and the bedrooms were renovated as well. The first level was for dedicated offices and reception desk. Phil finally had a space for his own work and a secretary. It wasn’t long before he was interviewing potential employees. He had Bruce and Steve accepting applications, narrowing down the prospects and handing those over to the secretary for scheduling. Clint was busy trying to take care of the kids, deal with the contracting firm and lining up everything needed to take care of a multitude of children.  

Morgan came back onto the scene and brought in more people which led to PA’s following both Clint and Phil around the premises who realized that if they said what they wanted, it happened. Clint put an arrow into the tablet of one who was following him out to the field where he normally trained at. Clint was getting tired of being pulled in all directions.

More changes were made as construction continued. Basements were added to each building. The cafeteria wound up being enlarged and the boisterous silver-haired cook in charge threatened to quit if her own budget wasn’t increased. Phil spent a good hour trying to talk her out of it, but changed his mind instantly once he got a taste of her blueberry pie. From that point on, no one ever broached the subject again. Her food was that damn good.

The ribbon cutting ceremony, Phil and Clint stayed away from. There was media attention with Morgan Stark, Steve Rogers and Bruce Banner to garner more than enough interest. Morgan left them later that evening with promises of holding charity events dedicated to Hawkson House.

Less than three weeks later, the first children began arriving.

The mass chaos slowly turned into organized chaos.

When a child arrived at Hawkson House, they were introduced to a counselor and an older child to help process them through. They were given a physical, had some educational testing to place them and guided through at their own pace until they had a bed and space of their own. For most children, it was only a matter of days until they settled and became accustomed to the environment. Staff were on hand 24/7 to see to their needs.

Oftentimes, Phil, Clint, Bruce or Steve were called in the middle of the night when a troubled child was brought in by a social worker and/or police.

It was Phil’s idea to set up a student council a few months later. It helped ease the transition for many in addition to teaching the kids about government, responsibility and helping one another.

The unexpected was still the norm. There were fights on occasion, both verbal and physical. The unrulier students were disciplined. That usually included working in the kitchen for at least a few days.

One of the more potential violent incidents involved a sixteen-year-old who physically threatened a teacher aid during an algebra class. Clint got wind of it and much to everyone’s astonishment, he put the kid in the nursery to help oversee the most innocent. No one quite understood how or why it settled him down. The boy volunteered many nights and weekends. In the future, the boy grew to become one of the world’s foremost experts on child development and went to warzones to save child soldiers drafted into vicious armies.

Sometimes the mutant children added to the non-mutant ones was a volatile mix. The Xavier institute sent their own aid in helping ease the transition for those specific children. Those with more control over their powers and those with tamer abilities could stay. The ones who had little skills in dealing with them or more dangerous to themselves or those around them were usually brought to Xavier’s. As time went on, Hawkson House began to settle into a new normalcy.

Clint had been worried at one point that their long lives could pose a problem for some of the children and even the adults working and living at Hawkson House. Phil only said they lived in a big universe with mutants, Inhumans and gods. What’s a few guys who happened to live longer than most going to change?

Before Phil and Clint knew it, Nicholas was graduating college. Alex and Michael were nearly through getting their degrees. Maria had just left home to attend Harvard. They were alone in their upstairs home and while they relished the quietness for a while, then it was too quiet. Their own children already knew about the history of how Phil and Clint had gotten where they are. They accepted it as easy as the hugs they got every day.

But Clint wasn’t ready to adopt again. Phil agreed and they’d wait. The child would find them.

In the twenty-five years of running Hawkson House, future senators, representatives, CEO’s, doctors and more were soon out in the world excelling and remembering what had put them on the path of trying to make the world better. After two ill-fated attempts to shut down Hawkson House, the young men and women made it their goal to ensure Hawkson House would be protected and continue to provide all the education and love that all but guaranteed its future. Several Hawkson houses were opened around the world much to Clint and Phil’s dismay. Their mission statement was just as fiercely promoted as was the original’s. Stark Industries and the various contributing charities were able to cover those growing homes for children. Clint asked Phil one day how many kids was being cared for by Hawkson House. Phil had no answer.

Nicholas Fury Johnson died.

He’d been seventy-five years old at the time. He’d married a young woman he’d met at Hawkson House. They had two children together and adopted three more. When he passed on from a heart attack, he’d left behind nine grandchildren as well.

It was a devastating loss. Knowing it was coming was far different than when it did happen. Phil and Clint were secluded for a week with their other children as they slowly came to terms.  It was another kind of living. Phil and Clint found themselves in the center of an extended family with grandchildren and great-grandchildren. They were seeing first hand how their influence had guided not only their children, but all those that followed as well. It was an unexpected gift of their long lives, but also the most treasured.

The world continued to change all around Hawkson House. Phil and Clint watched as the weather grew warmer, the climate became more unpredictable and the government reacting to the food riots, disease, massive poverty and borders clashes erupting in violence as people migrated to save their lives and the lives of their children.

They were lucky. Their food reserves were guaranteed to remain full as the result of an enlarged greenhouse and storehouses of saved goods over the years. While some funding began to slowly dry up, they were still supplied by Stark Industries for a variety of needs. Much of their staff counted their lucky stars with the guarantee of a job. Those were becoming in short supply as well.

It was hard for the children to leave sometimes. Some were adopted out and as time went on, more and more were aging out of the system. The nursery was soon closed since infants were getting placed immediately by the state. Phil, Clint, Bruce and Steve did their best to insure the older children’s future as much as possible. Most received scholarships to a wide variety of universities. Some were hired straight out of Hawkson House because that recommendation was worth a person’s weight in gold. On occasion, they stayed in order to resume the duties of a retired or relocating staff member.

The hardest ones were those that Phil and Clint couldn’t save, but that went with the territory. Still, they all worked hard to ensure each and every child’s future. Especially Bruce, who managed to create one of the best scholarship programs in the world.

Only the brightest were accepted for internships at a private lab with only a high school education. It promised all expenses for college and medical school. Dillon was such a student. He had a genius level intelligence, a thirst for knowledge, and eager to cure all the world’s illnesses.

Bruce had gotten quite close to Dillon and was talking with Steve about adopting the boy. It was forgotten when he received a prestigious scholarship at a New York City lab. Six months after leaving, he’d been found dead after overdosing on a designer drug.

Steve had chased after Bruce into the mountains where the monster finally emerged and tore into the wilderness with a rage that was felt several miles away. When Steve returned with Bruce, the quiet scientist was shattered. It took months for Bruce to recover.

It was a few years later when an emergency call came over the network. Clint, Bruce and Steve hurried to Phil’s office just as the picture came into view on the screen. The pixelated picture was an indicator as to the deterioration of the environment.

Sofia, a woman with greying hair, was one of their liaisons in transporting orphaned and unwanted children to the various Hawkson Houses. The Russian government had been especially difficult.

“Sofia?” Phil asked. “What’s going on?”

“We’ve been ordered to leave the country, Phil. We have twenty-four hours to leave Russian airspace. If we don’t, they will relocate us. They refused to answer any of my inquires. Who knows what will happen after that?”

“How many?” Steve asked.

“Eighty-five,” Sofia stated. “I also have four workers besides myself.”

“We should be able to arrange a transport,” Phil explained. “I’ll contact the ambassador or his attaché and see if they can get us a flight plan to New Oslo.”

“Phil,” Sofia said growing more serious. She took a step closer. “I know of eight mutant children with us. The rest, I can’t be sure about.”

“Are they able to control their powers?” Clint asked.

“I believe so. We have been talking with them. But if the soldiers or anyone else believe…They will not be allowed to leave.”

“Understood, Sofia. Hang tight and I’ll be in touch ASAP.” Phil turned the screen off and looked at everyone. “Well?”

“Someone needs to go,” Steve said. “If there are any problems, we need to be able to deal with them on the ground.”

“Steve and I will,” Clint offered. “We’re the best faces for it right now.”  

“Are you sure about this?” Phil asked. “We can find someone else.”

“Phil,” Clint said. “Hawkson House is globally respected. With Steve and I on the ground it might settle some nerves. You can let Sofia know and get some intelligence from your inside contacts at SHIELD should conditions change.”

“Okay,” Phil said with a sigh. “Bruce and I will coordinate from here.”

“Clint and I can take a military hop from Dover to Berlin. I know the pilot,” Steve said. “It shouldn’t take long to get to Moscow from there.”

“As long as we’re out of Russian airspace in twenty-four hours,” Clint told him. “It’s going to be tight.”

“The advantage of being Captain America is the military giving you carte blanche all the way.” Steve smiled. “Getting there will be faster than you think. And you’re right, Clint. We’ll likely be out of Russian airspace with only a few hours to spare.”

Clint headed upstairs and Phil followed him. He grabbed a duffle and his backpack. He turned to Phil.

“The last time we were apart, I was…” Phil couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I know.” Clint went to him and they rested their foreheads together. “I swear, Phil, I’ll do everything I can to come home.”

“You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I’ve seen it on your face,” Clint said in a low voice. “You want to adopt again.”

“And you’ve held back. We knew what was going to happen when we started this.”

“Yeah,” Clint reluctantly agreed. He raised his head to look into Phil’s eyes. “Let’s give it another try when I get back.”

Phil gently smiled. “I’d like that if you’re sure.”

Clint gave Phil that promise with a kiss. Afterwards, he finished packing and picked up one of his older bows and quiver before leaving.

 

~*~

 

By Clint’s estimation, this should be a milk run once the tension was resolved after their arrival. It was dusk when he and Steve arrived in Moscow by way of twin prop with permission from the government. They made their way to an auditorium where Sofia, her workers and the children were waiting. All seemed to go well with the government liaisons after speaking with them.

The transport would be landing in two hours. Clint assured her there would be food and blankets after hearing no one had eaten in some time.

He surveyed the room with various children milling about. Some sat quietly and a few cried despite the comfort from Sofia’s people.

“Phil arranged for two 5-ton cargo trucks,” Steve told him. “It’ll be here in an hour.”

“We should get the kids loaded and out of here as soon as it arrives. The sooner we’re out of Russia, the better,” Clint said. He was feeling a bit skittish.

When the trucks arrived, the adults carefully herded the children in the back. Fortunately, it was covered because Clint was sure rain was coming soon. It was a little warmer for the kids at least.

Steve got in the back of one truck with the children and Clint took the other. The workers were split between them and Sofia rode with Steve. The ride to the waiting transport was going to take longer than anyone liked.

Few words passed between anyone, even the children. Clint gripped his bow and looked down the children sitting on the benches opposite of one another.

A flash of red hair escaped from one of the children’s scarf and got Clint’s attention as it was caught in the wind. He was mesmerized by the thick tight curls flipping around wildly. Her face was turned away from him gazing at the street as cars passed and city lights rolled across her. Seeing her hand clenched on the tailgate until her knuckles whitened is what made him move.

Clint made his way over and took the seat across from her. When she looked at him, he was taken aback. Angry blue eyes stared sharply at him and her mouth tightened. There was a stubborn set of her chin.

“It’s going to be okay,” Clint told her in Russian. “We’ll be on a plane soon. In a matter of hours you’ll be in New Oslo and it’ll be much better there.”

She said nothing and turned her gaze back to the street. That’s how it went for the remainder of the ride.

At the airport, they drove out onto the tarmac where the C-141C waited. Clint shook his head and looked at Steve.

“I thought the Army decommissioned those planes. They’re fucking ancient.”

“It’s the best they could do on short notice. The pilot assured me it fully passed inspection before leaving the ground.”

Sofia walked over to them. “They said we can start putting the children on the plane.”

“Is there a problem?” Clint asked seeing the concern in her eyes.

“One of the crew is questioning if my people are cleared.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

Clint watched Steve go to one of crewmembers and looked at Sofia. Then he caught sight of the girl standing near one of the trucks away from the rest of the children.

“Who is that girl, Sofia?” Clint asked pointing towards her.

“Oh, that one. We don’t know. She refuses to tell us her name. She showed up two weeks ago asking for food. Whoever she is, she doesn’t trust anyone…not even other children.”

“Any signs of abuse?”

“I wouldn’t know. She won’t let anyone near her for an examination. The children are afraid of her, Clint. She’s never done anything, but it’s the look in her eyes. I’d say she’s suffered some sort of trauma.”

Another truck arrived and several Russian troops emerged carrying weapons. There was yelling in Russian and the children crowded closer together, many of which were crying. Sofia, Clint and Steve hurried to the officer who was demanding medical testing on the children before leaving.

Steve was quick to get someone on his cellphone and while the officer was talking, Clint glanced over long enough to see the girl sprinting away from them. Her long frizzy curly hair blowing wildly behind her as she ran.

“Shit!” Clint glanced at Steve. “Get them out of here!”

“Clint!”

“Tell Phil I’ll call as soon as I can!”

Without giving Steve a chance to talk him out of what he was doing, Clint took off after the girl.

 

She was fast. Clint kept his eye on the red hair as she darted around boxes and freight. He could hear the yelling behind him and a quick look over his shoulder made him push harder ahead to catch up to the girl. He had three soldiers on his tail.

The girl’s movements were getting easier to predict and Clint took a sharp left in between two buildings. He halted in his steps, turned with his bow and three arrows knocked. With their guns aimed, he had no choice but to kill them.

Clint bobbed and weaved through the buildings and saw the flash of red hair. She was starting to slow which worked to his advantage. He saw her come to a stop, breathing hard. Clint moved closer and came up behind her, grabbed her with an arm around her shoulders and jerked her inside one of the smaller offices.

She struggled and kicked. One foot landed on his knee and he bit back a curse and Clint refused to let go of her. He managed to drag her back and saw through the window two soldiers walking about. There was no doubt who they were looking for and he covered her mouth with his hand just in case.

After a few minutes, Clint grabbed her wrist and found a backdoor. They crossed to another building that was dark. Still keeping a tight hold, he went to the side and found an open window. They got inside and in one corner looked like it might work for the time being. He brought the girl to where three stacks of freight boxes sat and pushed her over towards them.

It was a battle of wills as she tried to stare him down.

“Get over there and sit,” Clint ordered in Russian. “In a few hours we’ll be able to get out of here when they stop looking for us.”

The girl finally walked over and sat on the floor in the corner with a sulk. Her flaming red hair sticking wildly out of the scarf and the freckles across her cheeks seemed more pronounced than ever.

Clint could finally breathe. He walked over to one of the boxes and slid the backpack off his shoulders. He set that, his bow and quiver on top. When he opened the backpack, he rifled through it and grinned. Extra power bars and a bottle of water were inside along with a burner phone.

“I love that man,” Clint whispered.

He took out one of the bars and set it towards the girl. “You need to eat something.”

She didn’t move. Clint shook his head and dialed.

“Hey.”

“Clint,” Phil said. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

“Same here. Did Steve and the kids make it out?”

“They’re in the air now. I’ve got our new girl tracking your position,” Phil said. “Daisy.”

“I thought it was Skye.”

“Long story. Sit-rep.”

“We’re good, but I’ve got a pissed off girl and I have no idea how we’re getting out of this country.”

“I’ve been doing some checking with an old Hydra mole.”

“Come on, Phil. I’m not looking to get killed.”

“You’re welcome to put an arrow in him if you don’t like him, Clint, but he’s been reliable in the past.”

“So, what’s the plan?” The girl still hadn’t moved.

“There’s an old SHIELD safehouse north of your position about twelve blocks away,” Phil explained. “No one’s used it in years and it should be safe for you and this girl. My contact will be there in the morning with a new set of ID’s and some money. The best I can do is get you home by way of Georgia.”

“Fuck.” Clint rubbed his neck. “That’s another three days.”

“Possibly four or five. The political uncertainty and border restrictions could hinder your trip.”

“I don’t see any other choice.”

“How old is this girl?”

Clint shot a look her way. She still hadn’t moved from her spot. He was a little impressed. Most kids were fidgeting by this point.

“About twelve, if I had to guess.”

“Okay.” The silence carried over for a minute. “Getting the ID’s and papers for you both won’t be a problem, but you’ll have to explain what she is to you when you hit the border.”

“A niece, I guess. My brother is dead. Won’t be much of a lie.”

“Possibly, but I’d rather play it safe and use something that will hold up under a lot of scrutiny. We can’t afford to take unnecessary chances.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“I’ll talk with Thomas at the law firm and he can put together a set of adoption papers in short order. He’s willing to skirt the law on this since the government’s gone more corporate and less governing.”

“I see.” Clint took another look at her. The wild hair had fallen across half her face. The wariness in the eye he could see was clear. “You want to give her a fake name with us as the adoptive parents. Phil, you know how this country feels about gays.”

“After a sizable fee is paid, they’ll look the other way. Plus, this will give you legitimacy once you two get to a border. Your picture is being flashed at the airports.”

“Probably because I had to take out three soldiers that were on my ass.”

“Get to the safehouse, Clint. Sergei will be there as soon as he has the documents and ID’s in hand. I’m sending you the address now.”

“Okay, Phil. I love you.”

“Love you, too. Take care.”

“Fuck,” Clint whispered. After memorizing the address, he cracked open the cellphone, removed the circuit board and sim card. After breaking the case with his foot, he shoved the components into the backpack, Clint hopped on a crate with his back to the girl.

Clint reached for the power bar and opened one end. He took a big bite.

“There’s a safehouse a few blocks away,” Clint explained in Russian. “In a couple hours when I know the coast is clear, that’s where we’re going. Or at least where I am if you really don’t want to go.” He reached into the backpack and took out another power bar. Clint opened it and set it behind him. “Now, you can take your chances here in Russia, where they don’t give a shit about an unnecessary mouth to feed, or you can come with me. I’m headed to the states to a very nice home with my husband where I expect he will have a very large and delicious meal waiting for me. It’s your choice.”

A moment later, Clint heard the rustling of the power bar being opened. He looked over his shoulder and grinned. She was eating it.

“My name’s Clint.”

In retaliation, the girl flipped him off.

“Right.”

At the safehouse, Clint showed the girl the bathroom and bedroom. He told her he’d be sleeping on the couch and she turned around, hair flinging over her shoulders, headed straight to the bathroom.

Clint sighed wondering what the hell he was doing. He was saving this girl’s life and all he got in return were furious blue eyes and a stony silence.

He opened his backpack again and took out the Russian money. They couldn’t live off power bars. Clint planned on going to the small store for supplies. He hated the idea of leaving her alone, but he couldn’t risk her getting pissed and bringing attention to them in the middle of a Russian shop.

The bathroom door opened and Clint turned around.

“There’s a shop a few blocks away. Think you could sit here long enough for me to go get some food.”

Then it happened. The girl yelled Russian curse words at him as if he was evil incarnate. Clint almost couldn’t believe it. He stalked forward and cut her off.

“Listen! We’d be on a plane headed out of here right now if you hadn’t bolted! There are Russian soldiers looking for me because of you! If you want to leave, there’s the fucking door! If not, sit down and shut up! I’m getting some food.”

Clint was out the door and once he was on the other side, he rested his head on it. He’d never lost his cool with a kid before. The guilt didn’t take long to settle in his gut.

When he got back with a small sack, Clint rapped on the door with his knuckle.

“It’s me.”

The door was unlocked and once inside he headed for the small table. Clint glanced over. She’d been crying, but the stubborn set of her chin told him she still wasn’t going to talk. He decided not to push it.

Clint set aside a packaged cellphone and then brought out two cans of soup, crackers and two large bottles of juice. Lastly, was the package of chocolate chip cookies. It took only a few minutes to fix a meal. After setting the table for two, Clint sat and started on the soup. He looked over to see the girl walking over and taking the chair across from him.

“What’s your name?” Silence. “I could just call you “hey” or “red” if you want.” More silence. “We’re headed to the United States. You can come to Hawkson House, learn some English and get an education. You might like it there.”

She still wasn’t speaking. Just watching him with wary eyes and Clint swore he saw a hint of amusement in them.  

After dinner, the girl sat on the sofa and went through the chocolate chip cookies.

When Clint washed the dishes, he discovered a knife was missing from the drawer. There were only two chocolate chip cookies left in the package.

 

~*~

 

Sergei arrived the following morning with papers, money and a new burner phone in hand. In addition, he was also leaving Clint a car which was a relief. It would save him from having to pay out the nose for a trip with no questions asked. Clint gave Sergei a portion of the cash before the former operative left.

The bedroom door was still closed. Clint figured the girl had to have been exhausted. She’d fallen asleep on the couch and he had nudged it with his foot rather than risking a touch to the shoulder.

When he skimmed through the documents, he froze. Seeing the name on the adoption papers was like a punch to the gut. Clint called Phil.

“On the road?” Phil asked.

“I just got the papers from Sergei. Phil, are you fucking out of your mind?”

“You’re talking about the adoption papers.”

“Why else would I be calling? I know I didn’t wake you up. You won’t get a decent night’s sleep until I’m home.”

“It’s an old alias from the nineties. It was already in the system and easy for Daisy to modify.” Phil sighed. Clint could tell he was tired. “I knew you wouldn’t be happy, but it was the most logical thing to do in the situation that you’re in right now.”

“I get it. I do, Phil. It’s just this is a blast from the past that I really don’t need right now.”

“How’s the girl?”

“A fucking handful. Let’s just say I’m glad I didn’t wake up with a knife in my throat.”

“Once you get into Georgia, send word and you and this girl will get on the next flight out.”

“Got it. We’ll be dark until then unless something drastic happens.”

“Let’s hope not. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

When Clint set the phone down, he looked over his shoulder. The girl was leaning against the frame of the bedroom door.

“Come here,” Clint said in Russian. He reached for the papers and when she was close enough, he handed her the adoption documents. “Your name is Talia Romanoff. I adopted you and we’re touring the country before heading home. You wanted to keep your name because of your family. Memorize your birth date and everything else. If we get called on it, you’re going to have make it sound convincing as long as you don’t curse at me and get us killed.”

He wasn’t going to tell her to wear the name proudly or that her namesake was one of the bravest and strongest people he ever met. He wasn’t going to talk about how he’d brought Natasha in from the cold in this very country when practically everyone wanted her dead. He wasn’t going to mention how she’d saved his life and many others time and time again.

He watched her study the document and slowly take a seat at the table. She was very quiet and still, never moving an inch as she read through it. Clint wasn’t sure what to make of it or what was going through her mind.

“We’re leaving after I take a shower. If you’re good, we’ll stop at a bakery.”

Clint didn’t wait for an answer and headed to the bathroom.

 

~*~

 

The drive to Tbilisi would take two days. At the first stop, Clint filled the car and bought the girl a tote bag. She had picked out a pair of red sunglasses and two candy bars. Whenever they stopped, she would scour through the store, check everything out by picking it up, looking at it upside down as if she was trying to determine usefulness. She’d set several items on the counter and Clint would set aside two or three of them because no, he wasn’t going to indulge her one bit. But the lip gloss and hairbrush were fine.

It was mostly uneventful aside from a poor attempt at stealing an ice cream bar at their third stop. She cursed at him before stomping out and Clint bit his tongue after apologizing to the store owner.

He was lucky to find a halfway decent clothing store along the way and bought the girl something more fitting than the oversized clothes she was currently wearing. She picked out a Hello Kitty shirt, dark blue jeans, and stuck two mismatched socks together which the cashier overlooked during the check out. The ensemble was completed with high top sneakers covered in silver glitter. She changed at a gas station and came out looking more like the young girl she was rather than the wildcat he’d first seen.

They got across the border with little resistance. She seemed to have a pleased look on her face as she held out her adoption papers to the soldier. Clint was relieved to have gotten a bored guard who could have cared less. Otherwise, he might have been recognized.

Exhaustion had already set in by the time they got to Tbilisi. It was evening and rather than a dreary motel, Clint opted for something a bit nicer. The girl could get a bath for a change. Her wild hair was weighted down and a tangled mess.

When they got to the room, the girl went straight for the far bed and laid down.

“No,” He told her in Russian. “Get a bath and then sleep. You smell.”

Clint got flipped off both physically and verbally as the girl stalked to the bathroom.

“You’ll thank me!” Clint hollered.

Hearing the water running, Clint picked up the menu and ordered two meals. It was an indulgence, but they were in a far safer place and he was too tired to make a food run.

After a short conversation with Phil, they had their flight scheduled for later in the morning. It was one of the few that didn’t go by way of Moscow. They would have a three-hour layover in Doha which had Clint ready to scratch his eyes out. Phil felt it was safe to use the credit card and buy the girl a tablet to hopefully keep her occupied during the long flight.

The tablet was delivered by the concierge after getting their dinner. The girl kept flipping through the channels over and over. Clint just grit his teeth and worked on getting the device updated because it was getting on his last nerve. He added a variety of games and found an app that translated Russian to English.

When he held it out to her, she set the remote down and took it. Clint snatched up the controller and took to the other bed. He settled on a soccer game.

Come to find out, the girl stayed up most of the night with the tablet. She spent the first two hours on the plane playing with it and then fell asleep with her head on his shoulder.

Clint sighed. She looked so damn innocent and even younger than the age he suspected. He couldn’t even begin to guess what kind of history she had or the baggage that she was carrying inside. He could only hope the counselors would be able to break through that hard shell of hers.

It was another twenty-four hours before he and the girl landed in New York. While going through customs, the agent smiled at the girl who’d handed her the adoption papers.

“Congratulations, Talia. I hope you and your new family have a wonderful life together.”

The look on her face was awestruck. Clint was taken aback by the smile that grew on her face when she heard the name.

“Talia,” she said.

“It’s a beautiful name,” The agent told her.

That was when “the girl” became Talia Romanoff to Clint and it unsettled him more than he’d like to admit.

Steve picked them up at the airport and his smile faltered when Clint introduced them. Clint made it clear to save the discussion for a later time. Once in the car, Clint felt the tension leave his shoulders. He fell asleep halfway to Hawkson House.

When they arrived, Phil and Bruce were out front waiting. He went straight to Phil’s arms and got a gentle kiss to welcome him home. When he looked behind him, Talia had stepped back unsure of what to make of all the people she was seeing.

“Talia Romanoff,” Clint said.

“Huh,” was all that Phil said.

Bruce was silent.

“This is Phil and Bruce,” Clint told her in Russian. “They’re friends like Steve.”

No one spoke for a moment so Phil took that opportunity. “Let’s go inside.”

When Clint started for the door, Talia was close on his heels. He looked at Phil.

“She hates me and now she’s using me for cover. I don’t know whether to be flattered or find a bulletproof vest.”

Phil couldn’t hide the grin.

“We’ll wait until tomorrow to acclimate her. I’m sure a hot meal and some rest will help.”

“Phil,” Bruce said. “If your intention is to put her with the other kids, I’d recommend against it. Obviously, she’s attached to Clint. You could do more harm than good otherwise.”

“I don’t know, Bruce.” Clint went to Talia, took her tote bag despite the death glare and walked to a desk. He upended it and a multitude of colorful items dropped down. Among them, the hairbrush Clint had bought, a steak knife, a butter knife, a yoyo and two pairs of earrings. There were pens, pencils, wads of candy wrappers and items that no one could figure out why she took them. It was all surrounded by candy and gum. “I bought a fraction of the candy.”

Talia yanked the tote out of Clint’s and stormed away to slump in a leather chair.

“She can’t stay at any of the blocks,” Phil said. “I think Bruce is right, Clint.”

“Where else is she going to stay?” Clint asked with a shrug.

Phil just smiled and headed for the stairs.

“Right,” Clint sighed. He already knew the answer. He looked at Talia. “Come on, you little thief. Get your goods.”

He picked up the bag and backpack, waited as she came over and used an arm to slide it all into her tote. She followed up the stairs to their place. Clint motioned for her to come with him and they went to Nicholas’ old room.

“I guess this is where you’ll be staying. If I know Phil, he’s already planning on buying you bedding and all that so you can make it your own,” he said in Russian. Clint looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “No stealing here. Got it? We do punishment things for kids who don’t follow the rules.”

“I will follow rules,” Talia announced in broken English.

Clint couldn’t believe it. The brat spoke English. He exploded.

“What the living hell!” He hollered. “You’ve cussed me three ways to Sunday like a Russian sailor and now, after a fucking week, you decide to speak English now!”

“This is safe!” Talia yelled back. “English not safe there!”

He deflated and rubbed his eyes.

“Okay, I get that,” Clint said with a gentler tone. “I don’t know what you went through in Russia, but here it’s different. You are safe here. You will be getting an education and you won’t scare anyone off. People are here to help you and will keep you safe. No one will hurt you. Got it?”

“Yes, Clint. I will do my best.”

Then Phil pokes his head in the door. “I made spaghetti.”

Clint shook his head and couldn’t stop the laughter. Of course, his husband would be listening. After Talia swept from the room, Clint grinned, “fucking spy.”

Come to find out, Talia had never eaten spaghetti before. She asked for seconds and thirds, finished off the milk. While Clint cleaned the kitchen, he looked across the room to the living room while she poked and prodded through everything in there.

“Old pictures.” Talia held a framed photo up of him, Phil and the four children they’d adopted.

“Yeah. Phil and me, we live a pretty long time.”

“Good.” She set the picture back. “You will have family forever.”

He was about to correct her when she turned and headed for the bedroom.

That night, he crawled into bed and curled up next to Phil.

“If we don’t get our throats slit before morning, I’ll take her for placement testing after breakfast,” Clint said.

“She’s smart,” Phil commented. “Everything else will likely be a host of minefields if she ever does talk about what’s happened to her.”

“I’m not sure if she ever will,” Clint mused. “Nat never did…” Clint covered his eyes. “Fuck, I’m doing it already.”

Phil rolled over to face him. “Is it that hard for you?”

“It’s not for you?”

“Initially,” Phil began. “The physical appearance alone is enough to make you think. We could get her genetically tested and see if maybe there is a blood relationship.”

“No, Phil. The chances are slim of getting a match. Not only that, as much as this kid drives me insane, she shouldn’t have that on her. With how we felt…still feel,” Clint corrected. “about Nat, I don’t want that to change how we deal with Talia. She’s got to be her own person and not what we want.”

“If I’d known…”

“Hey,” Clint said softly, “there’s no way you could. You went with an alias that hasn’t been used in so long that no one would think twice. It made sense.”

“She still reminds you of Natasha.”

“Yes, I’m trying hard not to let it get in the way.”

Phil sighed and he put and arm around Clint’s waist, holding him. “Maybe, she’s a bit of Natasha without the Red Room. It might help to think of her that way.”

Clint moved in close to Phil and was soon asleep. His dreams were filled with Natasha’s face and a voice saying, “Everyone deserves a chance whether they want it or not.”

He’d told her that the first time they met.

 

~*~

 

Fortunately for Hawkson House, they still got quite a bit of foodstuff brought in from local charities, donations and what they paid for out of pocket. Clint was especially grateful since Talia had seen fit to eat two pieces of fruit, two bowls of cereal and three slices of toast not to mention an oversized glass of apple juice.

She seemed more than happy to do what was asked of her now that she was out of Russia and in a safer place, but Clint still worried how she would get along with other children. They’d managed to find clothes to fit and she was even more mismatched today than in Russia.

Clint gave her a basic tour as they headed to the education department where she would get placement testing. It was nice being welcomed back by the kids and everyone else alike.

Two counselors were waiting for them and Talia seemed to shrink a little as Clint spoke with them. He wasn’t sure if she could read English or Russian for that matter. It was Pietro Maximoff who managed cut through any language difficulties. His pleasant smile seemed to put Talia right at ease.  

With that done, Clint had some time to kill and he made his way to Steve’s office. He always liked the large space. It doubled as a studio and the mishmash of artwork scattered around and hanging up looked like a disorganized mess, but Steve always insisted it was just the way he liked. Clint had always been impressed with Steve’s prolific artwork whether it was a sketch, oil or clay.

“Hey, Clint.” Steve glanced up from his gradebook and smiled.

“Steve, busy?”

“No, not at all.” Steve got up and went to his coffee pot. “Cup of joe?”

“Sure.” Clint always liked how some things just stayed with Steve, never changing.

After getting their mugs, both sat down.

“So,” Steve began. “I emailed a projected budget to Phil.”

“Yeah? How’d that go?”

“We’ll probably get half of what I was hoping.” Steve eased back in his chair. “I feel like I’m shortchanging the kids, but I know times are starting to get tough. We all knew it was coming.”

“You’re not the only department feeling the pinch.”

“I was thinking of calling a friend. Maybe we can set up an auction with some of the artwork. Some of these kids, Clint.” Steve shook his head. “They’re damn good.”

“I know. Phil showed me pictures of the galleries. It’s impressive.”

“How’s Talia?” Steve asked needing a change of subject.

“Still a firecracker…hell, a C4 explosive, damn near. She’ll settle down, I think. Won’t be easy.”

“I figured. She doesn’t take to strangers too well.”

Clint glanced at Steve’s far wall. Hanging high was an oil painting of the Hulk in silhouette with Bruce’s shy grin delicately layered as if it was his own soul inside the rage monster.

“That’s fucking beautiful,” Clint said. He glanced at Steve. “Most people never saw Bruce inside Hulk. Just the monster.”

“They saw the Other Guy and then there was Bruce. Even Bruce felt that way. Not me.” Steve sipped his coffee and sighed. “I can’t even explain it to myself clear enough. That’s just what I see.”

“So, what’s the deal with you two?” Clint asked. “Phil and I’ve never been able to get a bead on you guys. You’re best friends. I know that.”

“Another complicated question,” Steve said with a light laugh.

“Oh, man, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s okay, Clint. Bruce used to be with Nat and he would move the earth for her, he loved her so damn much. After she was gone, I think both of us needed consistency in our lives. We were going to live for a long time and trying to do that alone was hell just thinking about it.”

“I get that, too.”

“That’s what got us together. Over time, it became something more. We’ve shared a lot together…the really important stuff in a relationship. Laughter, sadness, companionship and everything else except the sex part.”

That got Clint’s attention. “Really? I would’ve thought you two got that part worked out.”

“We talked about it and figured that it wasn’t as important as the rest plus neither of us were willing to risk other people’s lives to do it,” Steve explained. “After so long together, we’re comfortable and we love each other. I wouldn’t change a thing, even if I could.”

“About the same with Phil and me. Well, sex…most definitely yes,” Clint grinned. “That never gets old with Phil.”

“And Loki?” Steve asked. “Bruce is curious, too.”

“I don’t know. He probably forgot all about us and is somewhere in the universe trying to one-up Thor.”

“Let’s hope.”

Steve raised his mug along with Clint and they tapped them together.

By lunchtime, Talia was finished and when Clint got back, he was pleased to find that Pietro had introduced her to a girl about her own age. Kate Bishop. Clint had an especially soft heart since she shared his passion and talent for archery.

Kate could get herself into trouble all her own. Phil had found her and three other teens outside the fence in the back of the property immersed in a failed attempt to make moonshine. Phil had given Bruce a hard glare for complimenting the effort from a scientific point of view. The kids spent two weeks mushing through the compost for the large garden as punishment.

Still, it was nice to see. Kate went with Talia to the clinic for her exam and testing.

The following afternoon, Clint was in Phil’s office going over the projected budget. It was looking to be a tough year since the endowments from Stark had been cut substantially.

Phil glanced up to see Julia, one of the doctors on staff, at the door.

“Julia, did you need something?” Phil asked.

She shut the door behind her and took the chair close by.

“We completed Talia’s exam and have been studying the lab results.”

“You wouldn’t be here unless something was wrong.” Clint hid his fist in jean pocket to hide his sudden nervousness.

“She’s a mutant.”

“Wow.” Clint glanced at Phil. “So, at some point we’ll learn what her powers are.”

“I’ve forwarded what I have to the Xavier institute, but she already knew…has known for some time.”

“How?” Phil asked. “She’s only twelve.”

“It’s rare, but it can happen at that age. Rarer still, even when it’s younger.”

“Are you saying that…? Clint began.

“Talia has uncharted regenerative growth, much like Logan. It took some prodding, but she finally admitted that she’s known for about three or four years.”

“She’s not going to sprout claws, is she?” Clint asked with smirk, not wanting to show how uneasy he felt inside.

“No,” Julia smiled. “As far as we can tell, this is her sole mutant ability. It’s safe to say that once she reaches maturity, she will stop aging altogether.”

“Julia,” Phil began. “Did Talia say anything else about her past?”

“Not much. But I don’t think she ever knew her name and my understanding is that she was on her own for quite a while. I don’t think she knows where she came from or who she is.”

Julia got up to leave.

“Thank you, Julia,” Clint said.

“Listen, I know Talia is wild and unpredictable, but she’s never really known safety and she doesn’t know how to trust. Underneath all that is a scared little girl.”

“We’ll do our best by her,” Phil promised.

Clint flung himself in the chair after she was gone. “Seems obvious that whoever had her probably kicked her to the curb once they realized she was a mutant.”

“It’s plausible.”

“You don’t think so?”

“It’s hard to say.” Phil leaned back and interlocked his fingers in front of him. “She could have escaped from somewhere. Russia is known to lock away mutant children and use them for their own benefit.”

“She’s made at least one friend,” Clint said. “Maybe that’ll help.”

Talia was one of those kids that if you thought she had settled in, you were quickly proven wrong. She was acclimating to her classes and seemed to be making a few friends. America Chavez, Teddy Altman, and Billy Kaplan were included in the group.

After getting a call from the cafeteria, Clint and Phil raced there to find Tommy Shepherd on the floor holding his bleeding nose. Talia stood over him with her fists clenched yelling at him.

“I don’t dance! I never will dance!”

While the boy was taken to the clinic, Phil and Clint stared at an enraged Talia.

“I don’t think she understands,” Kate tried to explain.

She didn’t understand. It took some time to explain that dancing was not sex nor did it always mean sex either. All poor Tommy had done was ask Talia to an upcoming dance at the gym.

Other times, when she spoke, everyone’s world view of her would just shift.

Clint found this out while he was preparing dinner and Talia sat on the barstool at the kitchen island.

“Dr. Bruce does not like me,” Talia stated.

“Why do you think that?” Clint asked.

She set a framed photo on the counter and Clint stilled. It was of Bruce and Natasha ages ago when the world seemed very young.

“Where did you get this?” Clint asked as he picked it up. The smiling faces made his heart ache. He looked over and she got very silent. “Did you take it from Dr. Bruce’s office?”

“I have seen her picture here and he has this,” Talia firmly stated. “He does not like to look at me. When I came here, he would not talk to me. People looked at me strangely. Is she why?”

“When we get done talking,” Clint said after finding his voice. “You’re going to take it back to him and apologize.” After turning off the stove, he took a seat next to her. “This woman is Natasha Romanov. With a ‘V’. A little different than yours.”

“Is she someone to me?”

“When we were trying to get out of Russia, Phil used an old alias, another name she had a long time ago, for you. That’s your name now.” Clint suddenly had a hard time talking. “Natasha was my best friend a very long time ago. She was strong, sometimes hard and unforgiving, but when she loved, you knew it whether she was hugging you or throwing you around for your own damn good.”

“I wish I could be like her,” Talia softly said.

Then Clint took Talia’s hand in his own. “You may resemble her or at times even sound like her, but you are your own person and you are capable of so much love and strength. That will come because of who you are. Not because of someone we loved a long time ago.”

“I still must know about her,” Talia stated determinedly. “She is important to you and Phil. To Dr. Bruce.”

“Yeah, sure,” Clint said with a half-smile. “We’ve got a lot of stories.”

After dinner, Clint took Talia to Steve and Bruce’s cottage. Once inside, she handed Bruce the picture with Steve looking on.

“I am sorry for taking this, Dr. Bruce.”

Bruce studied the photo for a moment then looked at Talia. “Why did you take it?”

“I did not think you would speak to me.”

Then Bruce’s soft smile seemed to relax the room. “It’s okay. I’m not sure if I would have at first, but you can always ask again.”

“Thank you, Dr. Bruce. I will be your friend and you can be mine. Much easier to talk that way.”

She turned around and walked out the door.

No one spoke. Bruce glanced at Steve and then at Clint, bewildered.

“Yeah,” Clint said. “You kind of get used to it.”

 

~*~

 

When Talia was a troublemaker, it was in the most unintentional ways. She had a difficult time accepting that there were other approaches to problems, but it was a learning process as well. She sometimes rubbed her classmates the wrong way when she felt her way was the best. It came up when there were class projects, plays and other teambuilding exercises.

She was also growing into her own person as well. Talia had a thirst for literature. While she was fluent in Russian and English, she soon added French, Spanish, Italian and German. She loved dancing and while she thought ballet was beautiful, she was into modern jazz dance something fierce. Talia would say, “my heart feels that” as if she was living it.

Talia hated cooking, but still learned it under Phil’s guidance. She didn’t start cleaning her room until the floor could no longer be seen. And her love of loud music was the bane of Phil and Clint’s existence. It was mostly punk music in her room that she blasted at the most inopportune moments. Clint and Phil’s sex life were never quite the same after that.

But she grew into a young woman, fierce, beautiful and strong. Talia earned a degree and started teaching foreign languages. She ran two dance classes and had recitals for everyone to see. Her temperament had evened out over time. While she was harsh at times, she gave thoughtful and productive praise when deserved.

Hawkson House was her home and she had no intention of leaving it.

 

~*~

 

The weather was growing harsher, more brutal. The sun would blaze down, burn the grass and eventually the garden refused to come back from its hot death.

They’d prepared for this. Every department at Hawkson House contributed to the new gardens in the basement. They used various techniques in hydroponics to increase their yield and production. The recycling and compost system proved to be invaluable in their efforts under Bruce’s new design.

The population of Hawkson House was slowly dropping off. Some left in hopes for a better life by moving farther north. Orphaned and unwanted children were no longer brought. While it helped food-wise, it was still depressing for both Phil and Clint.

Clint found Phil one day holding his cup of tea, sitting in the bay window, looking out at the yellowed sky and the harsh wind that flung the dry earth at the glass, the sound a reminder of what was ahead.

“Hey,” Clint said as he sat across from him.

Phil said nothing for a moment but kept his gaze outward.

“They’re building domes,” Phil stated.

“Who?”

“Some of the population centers.” Phil sighed heavily. “The larger metropolitan areas are too big. The planet will claim them eventually.”

Clint said nothing. He had helped Bruce and Steve earlier with sealing areas where the dirt was starting to drift inside.

“I have a contact in D.C. who said the government will start relocating populations in the next ten years to domed cities. They’re already working on tunnel systems for transportation. The technology to update aircraft for this environment doesn’t exist.”

“Stark Industries?” Clint asked quietly.

Phil shook his head. “They’re trying to keep their own head above water. I’ve been told the government has placed tight restrictions on their ability to do business or philanthropic work. The Stark family’s hands are tied.”

Neither spoke for a few minutes. They just watched the unforgiving wind blow and felt the warmth through the windows. When Phil looked at Clint, his eyes were red and tears were at the corners.

“We’re dying, Clint. Humanity is at the beginning of its last legs. The population of the planet is less than a billion. Between wars, riots, droughts…” Phil rubbed his wet eyes. “The west and east coast are separated by a wasteland that can’t even produce a strand of wheat. It’s a massive desert. The Amazon is burning, literally. The coastal cities have been abandoned because the fucking ice caps are almost gone.”

Phil put his cup of tea down because he was ready to throw it across the room.

“Fuck them!” He bit out. “It was written in the fucking sky and everywhere else that this was going to happen. They could have…goddamn, them, Clint. None of this had to happen!”

“I know.” Clint didn’t have the words to comfort Phil.

“Protect the future.” Phil’s laugh was a bitter one. “We didn’t protect shit. Instead, we’re doomed to suffocate in our own goddamn coffin.”

“It could turn around, Phil. We’re still alive and we could make it on the other side.”

Phil was resentful and depressed. He had no hope to offer Clint.

“If this planet can still hope to sustain life, there will be so few of us that rebuilding the population is impossible. Do you know how many people that will take?”

“I don’t know.” Clint had never thought of that before.

“Fourteen thousand. That’s how many humans it will take to bring us back from near extinction. One catastrophe or disease that wipes out even a small portion means death for everyone else.” Phil breathed in deeply and let it out. He straightened from his sitting position. “Besides, surviving isn’t enough. It never is.”

Despite Phil’s mood, life did continue and Hawkson House survived. Communications from the outside world was sporadic. Word had reached them that some virus was sweeping through Europe. Little was known about it other than the thousands that were dying daily.

There were highlights of joy with new babies being born, their hydroponic crops doing better than predicted and the need for a party had one nearly weekly for birthday celebrations. It seemed to help some, but everyone was willing to keep going.

Phil, who was always the forward thinker, looking to the future, and trying to plan ahead had the SUV outfitted to survive the brutal environment. With masks and other protections, he sent Steve, Talia and Clint out to the town to scavenge for supplies. They were well-armed since they had no idea what they’d find.

The three came back with ample supplies and went back for more the next day. When they returned, they brought back a mother and her young son who’d been hiding in the storeroom of a grocery store. The horror stories the mother told, Clint and Phil kept to themselves.  

 

~*~

 

Today, they covered up the last of the windows. The sun bore down, pushing more and more heat inside. Fan circulation helped relieve much of the hot temperature which kept the well-insulated buildings cool enough for comfort.

Clint, Phil, and Talia packed up their belongings in the farmhouse and moved into one of the blocks where Steve and Bruce had also gone as well.

They still had many mutants who would survive the long winter drought and years onward. Still, most were regular humans. Age caught up with them, some simple illnesses were becoming life threatening and when death did come, volunteers dressed for an assault of hot wind and dirt in order to bury the dead.

The attempt at normalcy sometimes worked. Daisy, who was now Johnson thanks to Clint and Phil’s adopting her, managed to get over 6,000 digital copies of films and just under 2,000 completed television series. Movie nights were soon started which helped to break people out of the drudgery of pretending life was continuing. There were still classes for the children, necessary chores for the upkeep and attempts to find those moments when nothing else mattered but being together.

It was Saturday morning and Daisy put “A Bug’s Life” on the large projector screen. Children laughed and loved it. Adults went along, but were melancholy at seeing the beautiful greens, bright flowers and the vivid blue sky. No one wanted to say out loud what they felt inside.  

This time, Clint did feel it. The cement beneath his feet was vibrating. It was low and he could barely tell, but one look at Phil was enough. His husband felt it as well. As the vibration increased, so did everything around them. The ground shook, books and shelves fell over. The people around them crowded together in fear and the children cried as they clung to their parents and to each other.

“Come on!” Phil yelled.

Clint ran after him and they took to the stairs out of the basement. They ran through the upper block to the breezeway leading to the farmhouse, unmindful of the dirt that billowed up behind them. They stopped and stared out the windows.

A large ship was lowering in the field a few hundred yards away. They’d never seen anything like it.

“Phil?”

“It’s a spaceship of some kind,” Phil said scarcely able to believe his eyes. “It’s not one of ours.”

A ramp opened and no one could make out the figure walking towards them with the wind and dirt clouding him. But when he got closer, Clint ran to the door and swung it open.

“My friends, ‘tis good to lay eyes upon you again.”

“Thor.” Phil couldn’t help but run forward and hug him. The demigod laughed.

“Son of Coul, you look well.”

“What are you doing here?” Clint asked.

“To bring you to your new home?” Thor said with amusement.

“I don’t understand.” Phil looked at Clint then back at Thor. “What home?”

“We have little time, friends. How many are among you?”

“Two-hundred thirty,” Phil told him.

“They must bring only their necessities. We have food and medical aid. Guide half of your group and my people will help them aboard. A second ship will follow for the rest.”

“Where are we going?” Clint asked.

Thor’s smile grew large and his eyes twinkled with joy. “You will soon see. Patience, Hawkeye.”

Clint and Phil did as was instructed and as people began to leave, there were harried questions and assurances given. They stopped long enough to see Thor’s reunion with Steve and Bruce.

On the second ship, Clint, Phil, Talia, Daisy, Steve and Bruce joined Thor. He remained coy and mysterious about their destination as they flew through space.  For a time, Clint and Phil stood at an observation window as stars flew by as bright streaks giving them a lightshow.

“I think most everyone is sleeping,” Clint said.

“We’re getting fresh oxygen. It’s bound to make people tired at first.”

“I’m so fucking confused,” Clint laughed.

“Thor was never known for his ability to keep a secret. He’s having too much fun with this.” Phil smiled at Clint. He had no idea their destination and hadn’t felt this good in a long time. “We need to get some rest, too. Thor gave us a small bunk to share.”

“Lead on,” Clint said with a wink.

 

~*~

 

Clint woke first and glanced over to see Thor.

“We have arrived.” Thor grinned and walked away.

He nudged Phil who slowly came awake.

“We’re here…wherever that is.”

They cleaned up and ate a piece of fruit before heading to where Thor stood looking out the observation window. When they got there, both men stilled.

The sunlight shown down on a vibrant green vista with trees and lakes. The ship began slowing and Clint saw birds for the first time in forever it seemed like. They saw other ships, crowds of people below them who gave a wave as they passed overhead.

The ship settled on a cliff overlooking the rich valley below them.

Thor brought Clint and Phil to the precipice to see. It was thousands of people milling about, landscaping had already begun in some areas while tents and small buildings were being erected in another.

“What is this?” Clint asked.

“You protected the future as was foreseen.” They turned to see who was speaking and Loki walked to them. “The great seer saw a new humanity reborn.”

“I don’t understand.” Phil was still distrustful of Loki, but around him was no lie or machination that he could see.

“Son of Coul,” Thor said. “You and Hawkeye gave many generations your wisdom, your kindness and your love. This noble generation before you is the outcome. My people took to your planet and brought those of Hawkson House and the generations that were begotten from them here so that humanity will live to it’s fullest potential because of all that you both have given them.”

“Those that remain on Midgard,” Loki said. “Will have to endure. Asgard cannot bring them here, but we will aid them as we are able.”

“Mayhap they will survive although it may take many generations for Midgard to find balance once again,” Thor explained.

“You were right,” Clint said to Loki as he gazed upon the thousands scattered in the valley. “That day when you took me to Phil. A boon for the future. A gift.”

“Yes, Barton.”

Clint turned to Loki who wasn’t the same person that had taken so much from him before. There was something else in the demigod’s eyes, kindness maybe. Clint wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter anymore.

“Thank you.”

 

~*~

 

As the sun set, food was being cooked, the aroma traveled around enticing more to the party. There was music playing and people laughed and danced. Children ran about and weaved through the crowds. The night sky covered in stars and two moons added to the celebratory atmosphere.

Clint and Phil walked around, holding hands and stealing kisses along the way. It was Phil who stopped and gazed into Clint’s eyes.

“We protected the future,” Phil grinned. “I didn’t imagine anything like this.”

“Yeah, me neither. It’s weird, you know.”

“What’s that?” Phil gave Clint another kiss, deeper and longer.

“Um…” Clint smiled a little afterwards. “What do we do now?”

“Maybe we could name this planet or something.”

“Planet Bob,” Clint winked. Phil laughed. “Hawkson or some shit?”

“You don’t like it?”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind staying around and seeing what this place is gonna look like in another thousand years or so. Maybe be a part of that, too. But we did this for them, Phil. We did it for Talia, Daisy and all the others. It’s theirs and their future. They’ll give it a name.”

“I love you so much,” Phil said.

“Tonight, I expect you to show me just how much,” Clint replied with a purr in his voice.

“Of course.”

Talia came over and grabbed their arms.

“Come on. Dance!”

Phil and Clint happily let her lead the way towards the music.

 

END


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